


A Love Match

by the_gramophone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Muggles, Non-period typical attitudes towards homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gramophone/pseuds/the_gramophone
Summary: Ever since Sirius Black parted ways with his family, he doesn't see the point in attending Society events just so people can gossip about him. Until one day, he meets Mr. Remus Lupin, new to Town and possibly the most captivating man he's ever met. But what could he possibly have to offer him when he's lost everything?





	A Love Match

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for I don't even want to talk about how long. It was a new ship that I hadn't tried writing before, and a different time period than I'm used to, and I have basically been working for a really long time. Huge, HUGE thanks to Sarah (theeyebrowofspock) for wading through my first draft to give me notes and encouraging me! Also a shout-out to Roo for reading updates and liking it and not making fun of me for how long it took me to do them lol. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I've always loved cheesy romance stories so I wanted to try one for wolfstar, and I may do a sequel one day, if the motivation hits me. 
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, I have an unnecessarily complicated explanation for why homosexuality is accepted in my version of history. All you really need to know is that it is, and unless you're a stuffy Conservative family (like maybe Sirius's....) no one cares.

_April, 1814_  


The ballroom was magnificent, gleaming with the light of a thousand candles. The best and most beautiful of the London haut ton danced to their hearts’ content, laughs glittering as brightly as the jewels adorning their wrists and necks.  


Sirius Black, however, saw nothing of the beauty that surrounded him, instead looking anxiously to his dearest friend, James Potter, Earl of Peverell and future Duke of Godric.  


“I shouldn’t have bothered coming,” he grumbled, ducking close to James to be heard over the din of the crowd.  


“Don’t be ridiculous,” James replied. “You have every right to be here. You have a voucher, just like everyone else.”  


The patronesses of Almack’s Assembly Room, the premiere club for the wealthy elite who flocked to London every spring for the Season, did not give out vouchers lightly. Of course, every member of a titled or respectable family received one, but they could be taken just as easily. Sirius had once taken his easy admittance into this world for granted, as sure and constant as his family’s money, or their disdain for anyone beneath their own vaunted rank.  


Everything changed over the past winter, however. Sirius supposed he was lucky he was considered handsome and charming enough to secure a voucher on his own merits, rather than tagging along as James’s guest, but he had to admit he didn’t see the point. Almack’s was where the powerful and wealthy met to make deals and secure profitable marriages, despite its front as a dance hall. He no longer had wealth, save a small inheritance left to him by his Uncle Ted, or a title he could one day inherit. Instead, he lived as a guest of the Potters, scraping by on his savings, and what familial items he had managed to pawn. Sirius couldn’t say he regretted the break with his family – they would never see eye to eye, and over time he found himself loathing the title and estate as much as he despised the cold, manipulative people who inhabited it.  


It could not be argued, however, that he had no real reason for being here. He certainly was not in the market for a spouse. With his lack of fortune and connections, the men would shy away, and the relentless vigilance of the Society mamas would keep him from making any friends of the female persuasion, were he so inclined. And, should the desire strike him, he had no problem finding companionship for a night or two, no formality necessary.  


“Look, I need you here,” James said, steering them through the crowd to the opposite side of the room. “Lily didn’t accept any offers over the winter, thank God, but I think this Season might be my last chance.”  


Sirius groaned and clapped a hand on James’s shoulder. James had been nurturing a painful attachment to Miss Lily Evans for almost three years now, since their first Season. She remained unimpressed with any of the grand gestures he continually attempted to woo her with, and met him with indifference at all turns. Sirius suspected she was not always as unmoved as she claimed, however. He understood Miss Evans had received many offers over her Seasons out in Society, but had yet to accept one.  


“I don’t suppose you’ve got something planned already, have you?” he asked. James tended to veer into dangerous territory without a friend to help refine his plans. Their first Season out, Sirius had taken great amusement in helping James with his grand schemes to win Miss Evans’s heart, but he had soon wearied of them. There was only so much being slapped or doused in water a fellow could take, especially when it wasn’t leading anywhere. James, however, was never deterred. Last year Sirius went out of town for a weekend to visit his aunt, and while he was gone James had hired a string quartet to play Miss Evans’s favorite songs outside her window for hours into the night. The constable had been called, and James had been sulking in defeat by the time Sirius returned.  


James’s eyes gleamed worryingly. “I’ve actually been working on a sonnet that I think will really capture the luminescence of her eyes.” He began patting his pockets. “I hope I remembered it. Although I do know most of it from memory, and I could probably make up the other bits as I go…”  


“Why don’t you just say hello and ask if she wants a glass of lemonade?” Sirius interrupted. He wanted to be supportive, but God, James’s poetry was awful. Sirius hoped that if James one day managed to secure Lily’s hand, then he would never again have to spend all night listening to James frantically compose verses on the curls in her hair.  


James frowned before nodding decidedly. “Yes. Yeah, I can do that. Good idea, Sirius, thanks.” He did not, however, take a single step in her direction, instead staring wistfully towards where she stood with her sour-faced younger sister.  


Miss Evans was very pretty, Sirius had to admit, if you liked that sort of thing. Personally he had always leaned more toward the blokes, but he could see the appeal. “James,” he said, pushing him forward. “That Snape git just came in, so if you want to go talk to her, you’d better go now.”  


James’s eyes narrowed and he nodded again, walking away. “You’re right. Thanks!”  


Sirius drifted for a while after that, chatting politely with various acquaintances, always excusing himself when their questions became a little too pointed for his taste. He knew his disinheritance was currently the great scandal of the Ton, and showing up tonight was hardly helping matters. A conversation with a young gentleman visiting from America had looked promising for some fun later, until the man’s elder brother arrived and pulled him away to introduce him to Lady Worsoth and her daughter.  


Sirius was sipping a cup of Almack’s famous, and frankly terrible, lemonade and considering how much longer he needed to endure this before he could slip away without causing offence when someone jostled him from behind, sloshing his drink onto his shirt.  


“Oh!” The man’s voice was horrified. Sirius turned around irritably to see the man who had bumped into him, and perhaps give him a stern word, and stopped dead in his tracks.  


The gentleman before him was perhaps the most breathtaking creature he had ever seen. His clothes were not extravagant like so many others, but were modest and neat. His brown eyes gleamed with intelligence, even as they were widened in dismay. He had light brown hair that Sirius ached to knot his fingers in, to see what might happen if he tugged on the slightly mussed waves and pulled it back to expose the man’s lovely neck.  


Sirius forcibly stopped himself from imagining peppering the stranger with love bites and hoped his body did not betray the direction of his thoughts. It was difficult to keep many secrets in the tightfitting breeches that were the fashion of the Ton.  


“I’m so sorry,” the man said earnestly. “I’m not normally so clumsy, I swear, but I tripped and –"  


Sirius smiled. “It’s all right,” he assured him. “This place becomes monstrously crowded the later it gets. It’s a wonder anyone has room to walk, let alone dance.”  


The man chuckled. “Yes, but you were doing neither, and look what happened.”  


“Really, it’s fine,” Sirius said. “I couldn’t care less.” The man smiled slightly, but said nothing. They stood in awkward silence before Sirius remembered himself. “Now I must apologize,” he said, bowing. “My name is Sirius Black.”  


“Remus Lupin.” The man bowed in return, before gesturing to Sirius. “May I get you another glass, since I so rudely ruined your last?”  


Sirius grimaced. Mr. Lupin’s face fell, and he scrambled to speak. “No! I mean yes, that would be very nice, only – I made a face because the lemonade isn’t very good, is it? I always have at least one because it gets damn hot in here, but it’s almost unbearable. If it were something else, I’d – I’d say yes. Just so you know.”  


Mr. Lupin had turned pink during Sirius’s ramble, and he smiled, pleased. Sirius decided he did not find that adorable.  


“Oh, well that’s alright then,” he said. “It does have a peculiar taste. This is my first Season in Town, and I’d heard so many things about Almack’s. The reality is … interesting.”  


“Good or bad?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.  


“Well,” Mr. Lupin said thoughtfully, “there’s the crowds, and the heat, and that disgusting punch. But the company has been quite...”  


“Yes?” Sirius pressed when it appeared Lupin was not going to continue.  


“Quite enjoyable, I suppose.”  


Sirius’s heart beat faster. In a matter of moments, this quiet but charming man had made more of an impression than a lifetime of dalliances with young widowers and visiting foreigners ever could. Sirius found himself at an unexpected loss for words. He had never had any trouble charming his way into the hearts – and bedchambers – of whomever he desired, but this was something entirely new.  


“Well, good,” he finally managed. “I’m glad. I’d hate to let the Ton down as far as first impressions go.”  


Lupin blushed again. “I wouldn’t worry on that front.”  


Sirius opened his mouth to speak – although to say what, he had no idea – when James grabbed him by the arm. “Sirius, there you are!”  


Sirius tamped down the annoyance that sprang up at the interruption and reluctantly introduced the two.  


“Pleased to meet you,” James said. “I hate to interrupt, but Sirius, I fear we must go.”  


“Already?” Sirius asked. It was funny; earlier he had been praying to be freed quickly but now that the time had come he was dragging his feet. James looked uneasily off to the side, where Miss Evans was speaking gaily with a tall young man, back pointedly turned towards James. “Ah. I see.”  


He turned to Lupin, who seemed to have his eyes fixed on Sirius’s arm for some reason, and bowed again. “I’m sorry, but he’s right, we must be going.”  


Lupin bowed. “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance,” he said stiffly.  


As James tugged Sirius away, he couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder. Lupin was staring back at him. When their eyes met, he blushed and turned around, melting back into the crowd.  


“Potter, I’m going to kill you,” he whispered as they exited into the warm spring night.  


James waved his words away distractedly. “Sorry, Sirius.” They climbed into their carriage and started for home. “You know how Snape hates me, and we were very close to coming to blows. I’m trying to convince Miss Evans I’ve matured, and would never dare pound the snot out of him.”  


Sirius snorted. Severus Snape had no title, but was the impoverished grandson of a marquis. His desperate social climbing was only matched by his desire to wed Miss Evans. He was a sneaky, slimy excuse of a man, in Sirius’s opinion, but Miss Evans had always been kind to him and disliked when he and James fought. Normally Sirius would have been all for a confrontation with Snape, but tonight he could not help but curse their rivalry, as it had pulled him away from Mr. Lupin just as they were becoming acquainted.  


They spent the rest of the cab ride in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.  


“Fancy a nightcap?” James asked as they entered the Potter’s London residence.  


Sirius shrugged. He felt jumpy, as if his nerves were singing and aching to be released somehow. “Not tonight. I think I may work.” James raised an eyebrow – it had been quite some time since Sirius had said that. “Not a word.”  


He left James chuckling behind him and raced up the stairs to his bedchamber. The fire was banked in the fireplace, and the manservant the Potters had assigned to him waited to help him into his bedclothes.  


“I won’t be needing you tonight, Lambert,” he said, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto a chair. “If you could just bring me some extra candles?”  


Lambert bowed and left the room. Sirius moved to the corner of the room, where an easel and several canvas frames were stacked. He dragged them out into the center of the room, where he would be able to see better by the light of the moon and his candles.  


Being raised to be a gentleman meant being educated in a number of rather useless skills, and only a very few practical ones. Painting had been intended to be a brief lesson by his tutor when he was young – enough to give him a working knowledge so he could hold his own in a conversation of the subject, but no more. His parents considered it a feminine hobby and did what they could to discourage it once it became apparent that Sirius had more than a passing interest in art. He spent years painting and drawing in secret until he could leave for Eton. There, he found a freedom such as he had never known before. He and James loved to get into trouble, but he could just as often be found holed up in his rooms, paintbrush in hand. After Sirius was disinherited and moved in with the Potters, James surprised him with the finest painting supplies money could buy. He appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but as he attempted to balance his newfound freedom with the realities of life without money or status, he rarely had the time or inspiration to paint.  


But tonight, for whatever reason, was different. Remus Lupin had stirred something inside his soul that longed to be set free. Sirius knew, with a painful certainty that ached with every breath, that he could never hope to make Lupin an offer. He had absolutely nothing to offer him, but he would express his admiration the only way he could.  


Even if Lupin never saw this painting, Sirius took comfort in knowing that there was something that he could point to, and say, “Look how I cared for this man. Look at the beauty he inspired.”  


The sun rose, unheeded by Sirius. Lambert quietly entered the room and set a tray of breakfast on a side table. Time slipped by in what felt like minutes, but it must have been almost noon before Sirius stepped away, looking at his canvas in satisfaction.  


The scene was a hilltop, overlooking a castle rising out of the forest. The moon was full, illuminating two dogs, one black and one a tawny brown, curled around each other as they watched over their small kingdom. Although they were alone in the night, it was clear they were content.  


“It’s good,” James said.  


Sirius swore and jumped, heart beating fast. “When the bloody hell did you get in here?” he demanded.  


James grinned. “A few minutes ago.” He picked a piece of fruit off of Sirius’s still full breakfast tray and took a bite. “You haven’t painted in a long time. Should I ask what brought this on?”  


Sirius blushed slightly and busied himself spreading jam on his cold toast. Perhaps if he pretended this took all his concentration, James would forget he had asked such a thing.  


“Sirius?” James prodded. Or not.  


“I just … had an interesting conversation last night.” Sirius shoved his piece of toast in his mouth to keep himself from saying anything more.  


“I see.” Sirius decided he found James’s knowing tone very annoying.  


“Yes, well.” Sirius scowled. “Nothing will come of it. I am just glad it gave me the opportunity to paint something.”  


James laughed and clapped Sirius on the shoulder. “If you say so, mate.”

James could mock all he wanted, but for some time, Sirius was right. Although he attended the next several balls they were invited to, he was unable to find Remus Lupin again. He pretended to care not a whit when James asked, and devoted his time to helping James woo Miss Evans, and stayed up until all hours painting almost every night.  


“I’ve been asking around for you,” James said suddenly one day as they helped themselves to the breakfast Mrs. Cornish, the Potter’s cook, had laid out.  


Sirius swallowed the bite of pastry he had just taken, and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”  


“Your young man.” James smiled as he buttered a scone.  


“He is not my anything!” Sirius hissed, leaning forward.  


“Not yet, not with that attitude,” James said primly.  


Sirius scowled. He didn’t want to give James the satisfaction of knowing he was interested in what he had to say. And yet … “Just tell me.”  


James smirked and took a bite of his scone. Sirius rolled his eyes as James took his time chewing and swallowing. Finally, he had had enough. “James!” Sirius tossed a fork at him.  


James ignored the fork bouncing off his shoulder and onto the floor, and wiped his mouth while clearing his throat. “All right, all right.” He cleared his throat again and Sirius felt his eye begin to twitch. From the badly contained smile on James’s smile, he knew he had seen it.  


“Mr. Remus Lupin, aged 23, no siblings, educated at Harrow and then Cambridge, son of Sir Lyall Lupin, Baronet of Howell. They have a decent estate in Derbyshire, and have recently purchased a home on Mayfair.” James paused. “Apparently, the estate has been doing quite well, and the word is that the family is hoping to make a profitable match to further the family name.”  


Sirius nodded, heart sinking. It was as he expected after all. An impoverished and disgraced member of the aristocracy would never do for a family whose only child was their key to making connections with the nobility. Still, he had rather enjoyed their conversation. Maybe, he thought wistfully, he could be content with a few words here and there in a ballroom. At least it would be a way of getting to know Lupin, even if it was not what he most wished.  


It had been three weeks and he had just about given up hope. He was going to remember the encounter fondly, but they were clearly not meant to meet again – not, as he often reminded himself, as if anything could happen if they did.  


They were at a ball celebrating the engagement of the Longbottom heir when it happened. Sirius had just finished an interminable dance with Nymphadora and delivered her back to her mother as he hobbled back to the refreshment table. There had been a dinner before the ball, but only the family’s closest family and friends were invited. Sirius looked over the array of treats, wishing they were serving something more fortifying than punch and trifle.  


“You look as if that dance took a lot out of you.”  


Sirius looked up from his perusal of the offerings in shock. There, standing before him with an almost sheepish expression, was Remus Lupin.  


“Mr. Lupin,” he bowed in greeting. Lupin bowed in return, eyes glinting with humor.  


“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Black.”  


“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Sirius picked up two glasses of punch and handed one to Lupin. “I have heard such wonderful things about the punch tonight that I expect it to rival the lemonade at Almack’s.”  


Lupin smiled and raised the glass to his mouth, eyes never leaving Sirius as he took a healthy sip. The effect was unbearably sexy, and Sirius lost himself for a moment watching the sinuous movement of his throat as he swallowed. The moment was broken as Lupin choked, and began coughing.  


“You may be right,” he said once he could breathe again. “It leaves me speechless.”  


Sirius threw his head back and laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people turning their heads to gawk at who was laughing so loudly, but he didn’t care.  
“Perhaps we should just leave these on the table,” he suggested, grinning.  


By unspoken agreement, they began to take a turn around the ballroom, watching the couples on the floor.  


Sirius remembered something that Lupin had said before. “You were right, by the way.”  


Lupin turned, frowning slightly. “About what?”  


“My dance with dear Miss Tonks.” Sirius laughed. “She is my cousin, and perhaps one of the only members of my family I am still on good terms with, but she is unbearably clumsy. My feet ache from the abuse.”  


Lupin smiled. “I’m sure she appreciates the sacrifice. Do you think you will survive, or should we call a surgeon to remove them?”  


“I fear it is too late,” Sirius sighed. “They may never recover, and I shall be forced to continue on as an invalid.”  


“Now that would be a shame,” Lupin said. “For you are a lovely dancer.”  


Sirius blinked, taken by surprise. Lupin blushed furiously, and turned back to the crowd.  


“That was forward of me,” he said stiffly. “I apologize.”  


“Don’t.” Sirius smiled. “I love to dance. With the right partner, it can be one of the best pleasures in life, don’t you agree?” He studied Lupin’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. Sirius was determined to ask for his hand for the next set. He was desperate to not let Remus Lupin slip away from him again.  


Lupin smiled again. “I do,” he said quietly. He seemed to be examining Sirius’s face with a focus that made Sirius flush. He wondered what it was Lupin was looking for, and just what he was finding. Sirius decided to steel his courage and opened his mouth to ask Lupin to dance.  


“Lady Longbottom seems very pleased with her son’s match,” Lupin said. His tone was more detached, more proper for conversation between two slight acquaintances.  


Sirius blinked at the sudden change in subject, but nodded in agreement. “Miss Alice Kilbourne is a very agreeable lady. She is supposed to be quite the scholar as well. They seem well suited.”  


“Yes,” Lupin said distantly. His smile now seemed more like a grimace. “It is a rare and lucky thing, to have your family arrange a match with someone you can be happy with.”  


“I suppose so,” Sirius agreed cautiously. What was Lupin talking about? Had he already heard of Sirius’s misfortunes, and was trying to warn him off further pursuing him? “Of course, Lady Longbottom is a difficult woman to please, but I believe the couple are a love match. I’m sure they had their work cut out for them convincing Lady Longbottom to forgo any of her own matrimonial plans for Frank.”  


Nearby, an older woman beckoned and Lupin sighed. “My mother is summoning me. I imagine she has acquaintances she wants me to meet, as I spend so little time in Town.”  


Sirius tamped down the sting of disappointment. It looked like he would have to wait on his dance. “It was a pleasure speaking with you again, Mr. Lupin.”  


Lupin bowed before walking to rejoin his mother and her group of friends. Sirius recognized most of them as older members of the nobility. Good people, if a little self-important, and almost all with eligible children looking for spouses. It seemed that Lupin was in the market for a partner. Judging by the way his mother had ushered Lupin away, it looked like Sirius had already been examined, considered, and discarded.  


Sirius left the ball early, deciding to pay for the expense of a hired cab so that James would not have to leave as well. The last Sirius had seen him, he had been pleasantly chatting with Miss Evans for a full five minutes, which must have been a record. He would not wish to disturb his friend’s pursuit of happiness because of his own minor disappointment.  


The next morning, James came to Sirius’s rooms to find him scowling at his canvas. He paused, taking in the stormy night sky splattered across the canvas, and sighed. “Would you like to accompany me on a walk to the park? I was thinking of taking Padfoot out. He hasn’t gotten as much exercise the last few days.”  


Sirius considered the offer. He could use some sleep now that the fevered strike of inspiration had faded away, and he was left feeling drained and empty. But if he wanted to sleep tonight, he could hardly sleep the day away, and he loved taking Padfoot to the park. Truth be told, he was almost more Sirius’s dog as he was James’s. He had been born late last fall, only weeks before Sirius had come to stay with the Potters at their country estate. A few days into his stay, James had found him, listlessly examining an empty bottle of Scotch, and tugged him along to the kennels, where Lord Potter’s finest pointer was nursing her litter of pups. Their small yawning faces had hypnotized Sirius, and pulled him out of the funk in which he had found himself since leaving home. One pup, darker and more adventurous than his siblings, had crawled over to where Sirius knelt, snuffling presumptuously at Sirius until he relented and scratched his tiny ears. From then on, Padfoot made a beeline for Sirius as soon as he stepped into the kennels, and was Sirius’s constant companion once the pups were weaned from their mother. In the few weeks since they had come to Town, Sirius admitted that he had not had as much time for Padfoot as he would have liked. He thought guiltily of the long hours that they had spent ambling around the Potter’s estate, and nodded.  


“A walk to the park sounds just the thing,” he said. “Let me have a cup of coffee and we can be off.”  


Hyde Park was still relatively quiet, as the society of London preferred late nights to waking up early. However, the day was already sunny and fine, and the fresh spring air was doing much to revive Sirius’s spirits. Sirius knelt and picked up a stick off the ground, tossing it for Padfoot to chase.  


“You seem to be feeling better,” James commented as he strolled alongside Sirius.  


“What can I say? My moods are as capricious as the winds of the spring.”  


James snorted. “I see you’re feeling artistic today.”  


“I don’t know what you mean.” Sirius carefully kept his face neutral.  


“And I would suppose that a certain eligible young man has nothing to do with your broodingly painting long into the night and moping around our house like a Gothic heroine?”  


“How can I broodingly paint? What does that even mean?”  


“You tell me,” James said. “You’re the one doing it.”  


Sirius sighed, and averted his eyes, ruffling Padfoot’s ears. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. He may be an eligible young man, but I am not.”  


“Yes, I can see how being handsome, intelligent, charming, with excellent connections, you’re destined to a life of destitution and solitude.”  


“I could have the personality of Lord Byron himself, but without the funds or family to back it up, no parent will approve of a match with me, and so there really is not much point in discussing it further,” Sirius snapped, suddenly weary of James’s relentless enthusiasm.  


“Capricious, indeed,” James muttered.  


“I’m sorry, James,” Sirius said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”  


“I do. I made you come out and talk about your problems when you’re running on no sleep.” James clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t I go to the pond for a few minutes, give you some time alone with Padfoot? Maybe he can cheer you.”  


Sirius smiled, despite himself. “I suppose this has nothing to do with the lovely redhead who is reading on a bench with her maid, does it?”  


“Of course not.” James winked, and strolled away, whistling.  


“Well, I can see when we’re not required, Padfoot,” Sirius said. Padfoot barked happily and jumped around. “You’re right. Let him have his courting, and we shall have some fun, hm?” He tugged the stick away, with some effort, and tossed it again.  


“What a beautiful dog.”  


Sirius froze. Be calm, he chided himself. Just behave normally.  


“Why, Mr. Lupin,” he smiled as he turned. Lupin was standing behind him on the path, a copy of the day’s newspaper tucked under his arm. The morning sun lit him from behind, making his hair appear almost golden. Sirius desperately tried not to think about what it would be like to see Lupin every day in the morning, as they woke, curled in bed around each other –  


Enough of that. He blinked, and realized Lupin was still waiting for a response. “Oh. Yes, Padfoot and I are the best of friends. I’m afraid I spoil him rather terribly.”  


“I’m not sure there’s anything to be ashamed of there,” Lupin said. “If man’s best friend is dog, then shouldn’t we treat them with the best of care?”  


Padfoot had returned with the stick and dropped it at Sirius’s feet, tail wagging. He laughed, running a hand over Padfoot’s head. “I can’t disagree with you there.” Sirius straightened. “Would you care to walk with me a while?”  


Lupin hesitated, and Sirius prayed his face did not betray the way his stomach dropped. “Of course, if you wished for some privacy to read your paper, I understand.”  


“No!” Lupin blushed. “I mean, a walk sounds lovely. The paper can wait.”  


Sirius beamed as they headed down the path together. They walked in companionable silence for a few moments, until he couldn’t resist trying to learn more about Lupin. “Do you read the paper every day?”  


“I try,” Lupin said. “I confess if I had my way I would spend more time on novels and histories, but it is also important to stay abreast with the events of the world.”  


“I find that commendable,” Sirius said. “I rarely make the time to pay attention to current events.” Immediately he cursed himself. Why would he say such a thing? Surely Lupin now thought him an idiot or a layabout. He tried to change the subject. “What sort of fiction do you enjoy?”  


“I’ve always been very fond of Shakespeare,” Lupin said. “Recently I’ve been reading a lady author who I find very amusing. She has two works out, I believe.”  


“Anything I might have heard of?”  


“I believe her most recent novel, Pride and Prejudice, is well-thought of,” Lupin said.  


“Oh? And is it one of those Gothics that people love so, with maidens locked in a haunted castle and evil barons and werewolves and the like?”  


Lupin laughed. As always, the sound made Sirius’s skin tingle with pleasure. “I’m afraid it’s nothing of the sort. But it is quite good.”  


“Perhaps I will try it sometime.” James’s family had a decent library at their house in Town, although nothing compared to the one at the estate. Sirius resolved to check it for a copy as soon as he returned to the house. “I always thought I would do well in one of those haunted castles. It sounds like good fun to me.”  


“I’m sure,” Lupin laughed. “You could probably charm a werewolf until it was as tame as a lady’s lapdog.”  


Sirius pushed aside the thought that there was only one person he would like to charm. “And you, Lupin? Would you conquer any vampires or ghosts that came to call?”  


“I would like to think so,” Lupin said. “But I believe if I was engrossed in a good book, it’s possible I wouldn’t even notice their presence.” Sirius smiled at the image of Lupin, nose in a book while a ghost tried desperately to get his attention. He supposed he could empathize, as there was little he wanted more himself.  


“Is this your first Season as well?” Lupin asked after tossing another stick for Padfoot.  


Is it possible that Lupin didn’t know? Sirius floundered for a moment as to what to say. Surely if he answered the matter of his family would come up. If he told the truth, he ran the risk that Lupin would no longer want to waste time with a disgraced gentleman with no prospects. But the idea of lying, of trying to conceal anything from this beautiful man felt abhorrent to him.  


“This is my third,” he finally said. “Although the first year I was still at Oxford, so I only attended a few events.”  


“That must have been nice,” Lupin said wistfully. “I’m afraid I find it all rather overwhelming at times.”  


“I still do,” Sirius said. “The people, the gossip, the pointless rules of behavior and dress… It all seems a bit of a waste, doesn’t it?”  


“Perhaps,” Lupin said. “Although, I suppose there are advantages.”  


“Oh?” They had both stopped walking and faced each other. Part of Sirius’s brain noted Padfoot rustling in the bushes nearby, but Sirius found himself unable to look away from Lupin, wondering what he would say next, if this was the moment Sirius had been hoping for.  


“Sirius!” James hurried down the path toward them. “Didn’t you hear me? I tried calling a few times.”  


Lupin took a careful step back until he was at a more appropriate distance from Sirius. His face, which moments ago had been smiling with mischief, was now politely blank. Sirius made a mental note to thump James later for ruining yet another moment.  


As James and Lupin exchanged polite greetings, Sirius could not help but wonder what Lupin had been about to say. In that fragile moment, it had felt like they were the only two people in the world, and that the society of London had stepped back to allow them their time together. But the moment had passed, and they were back to the strict civilities that were correct for two acquaintances in a public setting.  


Lupin took his leave soon after, continuing down the path with his paper. He seemed small suddenly, his head down and his shoulders hunched. Sirius could not help but wonder how it was that this was the same delightful, lively man from moments ago.  


Once Lupin had turned past a grove of trees and was out of sight, Sirius whacked James on the arm.  


“Ow!” he cried, rubbing it. “What was that for?”  


“Why must you continually interrupt us?” Sirius hissed. “Do you want me to die a lonely bachelor?”  


James grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Why, Sirius, I thought you said there was never any chance for you.”  


Sirius hit him again and began walking back the way they came. “And if that hurt, you really should start up your fencing again,” he called over his shoulder. “Can’t have you weak and out of shape if you need to fight for Miss Evans’ hand.”  


James remained in an annoyingly good mood the rest of the day. He did not seem the least bit bothered about interrupting Sirius earlier, and chuckled every time Sirius reminded him of it. By the time they were preparing for dinner, Sirius had had enough. He had gone to James’s room to see if he was ready to go down, and found James staring out the window, a soppy expression on his face.  


“All right,” Sirius announced as he strode into the room. “What on earth has gotten into you? Did you get hit on the head and I didn’t notice?”  


Lambert coughed discreetly from where he was standing near James’s wardrobe. “If you gentlemen will excuse me,” he said stiffly, and scooted out of the room.  


“Now you’ve done it,” James said. “You’ve scared Lambert again with your cavalier manners.”  


Sirius shrugged and flopped into the chair James had in front of his fireplace. Privately, he thought Lambert could use a little shock now and then, or he would become stiff as a board and topple over. “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”  


“Tell you what?”  


“Tell me what,” Sirius scoffed. “James, my friend, either tell me what has gotten into you or start acting like a normal human being again. Because right now you are behaving very oddly.”  


James turned to face him. His hands twisted the hem of his coat and his eyes had a manic gleam to them. “Miss Evans has agreed to allow me to call upon her.”  


“Thank heavens!” Sirius threw his hands in the air.  


“I know!” James began to pace. “I thought it would never happen! Now all I need to do is not ruin it, and everything will be perfect.”  


Sirius rolled his eyes. “James, if you’ve gotten this far, after all the time you have spent pursuing her, it means she is already more than willing to consider you. I’d say you have a great chance of finding remarkable happiness.” James nodded without replying, still pacing. Sirius began to worry about what was going on in James’s head. He tended to react to feelings of insecurity by wildly overcompensating, and if anything could ruin his chances, that would be it. Visions of string quartets and carolers began to dance in his head, and Sirius decided enough was enough.  


“No use fretting about it right now,” he said, standing up and grabbing James by the shoulders. He began to herd him towards the door. “You’ll wear yourself out pacing the night away if I don’t stop you, so we are going to go eat dinner with your parents, and then we are going to play cards and talk about normal, acceptable tokens of affection you can bring to her home.”  


It was well past midnight by the time Sirius was able to leave James. They had spent hours playing cards and discussing what flowers James should bring, what time he should call, and which suit he should wear.  


Despite Sirius’s exhaustion, he passed his bed and continued to the corner where his easel stood. The painting from the night before, with its swirling dark colors and melancholy theme, no longer felt quite right to him. The day had brought a hopefulness that he had been searching for. Sirius set it aside and placed a new canvas on the easel. He thought of the way the sun glimmered through the trees that morning, and the feeling as he watched Lupin walk towards him, and he began to paint.  


A month passed in a similar fashion. James’s first call upon Miss Evans had gone remarkably well, and soon he was calling upon her every day, whether to make polite small talk at their home, or to accompany her and her sister to the opera or the ballet.  


James’s happiness seemed infectious, filling the house with a joyous mood that could not be suppressed. Sirius continued painting, but began to find that rather than staying awake late into the night, he found better inspiration by waking early and painting in the early morning light. Every time his path crossed with Lupin at a ball or assembly, he felt an extra energy and light for days afterward. James remarked frequently that he was glad to see Sirius returned to happier spirits, and even Lady Potter had taken him aside one day to give him a hug.  


“I don’t know who it is that is making you smile so,” she told him fiercely, “but you hold onto them. It fills my heart with joy to see you looking well after so long.”  
Sirius agreed and ducked away. The truth was, he was no better off than he was at the beginning of the Season. Although the Ton had soon moved on to newer and more salacious scandals to whisper over, he still had no money and no living to offer. And though Lupin always seemed to enjoy his company, and they had even danced a set or two together at Almack’s, there still seemed to be something keeping him at arm’s length. He had never again approached the discussion they had begun in the park, and he still would occasionally stiffen and pull away, retreating into the polite persona Lupin seemed to present to the rest of Society. Sirius no more knew why it happened than he knew how to stop it. And yet, he could not help but cherish every moment they had together. Any hope he might once have had of moving quickly past this faded as his infatuation was replaced by something that felt more permanent in his heart. He dared not put a name to it, but felt certain that it was there to stay.  


It was an evening in late May, at a ball at the home of Lord and Lady Prewett, and Sirius believed he was going to faint if he did not get out of the stifling heat of the ballroom. He edged through the crowd until he saw a set of balcony doors ahead of him. He sighed in relief and quickly passed through them to the balcony. The evening air was a welcome relief, and he threw his head back, inhaling the pleasant aroma of flowers from Lady Prewett’s famed gardens.  


“It is rather toasty in there, isn’t it?”  


Sirius smiled. “Mr. Lupin, will you ever stop surprising me when I least expect you?”  


Lupin moved to stand beside him. “It seems not. Although perhaps it is not that I am sneaky, but just that you are not so observant.”  


“Mr. Lupin!” Sirius gasped with false outrage. “How dare you!”  


Lupin laughed. “I was out here before you, you know.”  


“Ah,” Sirius said. “It seems I did miss that.” He grinned ruefully. “I was entirely focused on getting fresh air.”  


“I was always told Society events were the most exclusive, but I believe if that were truly the case, perhaps the ballrooms would be less suffocating.” Lupin turned to face the gardens below. “Just one of many examples of the Season being different from what I expected, I suppose.”  


“Oh?” Sirius asked. “Are we not meeting your expectations then?”  


“It is not quite what books led me to believe,” Lupin admitted. “But I find myself enjoying the experience nonetheless.”  


Lupin’s comment reminded Sirius of something he had been waiting to tell him next they spoke. “I went to a bookstore the other day,” he said.  


“Really?” Lupin said. “And you didn’t get lost on the way?”  


“Excuse me, I know this city like the back of my hand,” Sirius declared. Of course, he had gotten turned around and maybe walked past it once, but he got there in the end and that was what counted. “I went to purchase a copy of Pride and Prejudice, as you liked it so much.”  


Lupin blinked. “Really?”  


“Of course,” Sirius said. “You made it sound so interesting, and I decided I would like a copy for myself.”  


“How are you finding it?” Lupin asked.  


“I am only about halfway through,” Sirius said. He was not as fast a reader as James, but he had been having trouble putting it down. He hadn’t even painted in several days now. “But I am enjoying it very much. Elizabeth is a most entertaining heroine.”  


“She is, isn’t she?” Lupin said. “I admire her very much, I must admit.”  


“I am having a little trouble understanding Darcy, however,” Sirius said. “He’s supposed to be the hero, but he seems rather terrible to me.”  


Lupin nodded. “He’s hard to understand at first, I agree. But I think by the end of the novel, you’ll understand why he is the way he is.”  


“And if I don’t?” Sirius asked. “If it is all a disappointment? You did recommend the work to me, after all.”  


“Would you like to be reimbursed?” Lupin chuckled. “All of my recommendations come with a satisfaction guarantee, how about that?”  


“I suppose I will have to trust you,” Sirius sighed. “But if this ends horribly, I am going to demand you make it up to me.”  


“Fair enough,” Lupin agreed.  


“Oh! But I distracted myself,” Sirius said. “When I was at the store, the bookseller told me that the author has just published a new work.”  


Lupin perked up, and Sirius tried not to melt at how adorable Lupin was when he was excited about something. “Really?”  


“Really. I believe it’s called Mansfield Park.”  


“I shall have to look into obtaining a copy,” Lupin said. “I have already read her other work, and I am eager for a new novel to enjoy.”  


“I purchased a copy,” Sirius said tentatively. “I thought perhaps I could read it when I was done with Pride and Prejudice.”  


“You must tell me how it is,” Lupin said. “I confess, I’m a little envious.”  


“If you would like,” Sirius’s heart began to pound, and he felt his hands begin to sweat. He tried to unobtrusively wipe them on his breeches. “I could call tomorrow, lend you my copy?”  


Lupin stilled. “I don’t know. Are you sure?”  


“Absolutely,” Sirius said. “I had planned on simply adding it to the Potters’ library until I was ready, but no one will miss it.”  


Sirius could not read the expression on Lupin’s face. “Perhaps that would not be a good idea.”  


“Oh.” Sirius cleared his throat and nodded. “I understand if you would prefer to purchase your own copy, of course. But perhaps once you read yours, you will tell me your thoughts?”  


Lupin was shaking his head before Sirius finished his sentence. He stepped away. “I’m sorry, Sirius – Mr. Black – I don’t think that will be a good idea either. Perhaps we have become too intimate these past few weeks. I don’t know what I was thinking, I know better, but – I believe I should go.” With that, he fled into the ballroom, leaving Sirius rooted on the spot as his chest felt it might burst with the pain.  


Somehow, although it felt removed, as if he was watching himself from a great distance, he made it back through the ballroom and out to where the carriages were waiting. He eyed the Potters’ carriage where it sat among the line on the street and walked past. It was only a few blocks home.  


He trudged down the street until he arrived in Grosvenor Square, slipping back into the Potters’ home and into his bedroom. Only moments later, Lambert arrived, knocking once on the door before coming inside. Sirius did not have the energy to wonder how Lambert always knew the moment he walked in the door.  


“Thank you, Lambert, but just some candles, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said quietly. Lambert nodded and returned quickly, lighting the candles and leaving without a sound.  


Sirius stared at the finished canvas in front of him. The bright colors and cheerful landscape seemed to mock him. The hope he had harbored even that morning felt laughable now. Of course this was how things had ended. He had always know it would. Sirius was simply a fool enough to begin to believe that he could have the sort of happiness others rejoiced in. With a grunt, he threw the painting to the floor and picked up a fresh canvas.  


The sky was turning gray with early morning light when the door opened.  


“Go away, James.” Sirius did not turn away from his easel.  


“Lambert told me that you had locked yourself away in your room upon returning home,” James came to stand beside him. He stood silently for a moment, observing the canvas. “A bit darker than what your most recent works.”  


Sirius snorted. “As no one will ever see these besides myself and perhaps a maid doing the dusting, I hardly see how that matters.”  


“You know you have more talent than that,” James said. “I’ve told you before, an exhibition could easily be arranged –"  


“James,” Sirius interrupted. “Could you please just say what you came here to say?” He dipped his brush in the navy, adding some depth to the broiling ocean he was creating.  


“What happened at the ball, Sirius?”  


Sirius paused, his hand hovering over the canvas. He had wanted to tell James and move on, so he could be left alone in peace, but now he did not know what to say. How could he explain things to James when he still wasn’t sure what had happened? He had thought that he and Lupin had developed a friendship, at the very least, but now…  


“It doesn’t matter,” he said again. James said nothing, just leaned against the wall and waited. “It seems Mr. Lupin is … no longer willing to endure my presence.”  


“Did he say that?” James asked incredulously.  


“Something along those lines,” Sirius muttered. He felt exhausted to the bone all of a sudden. The events of the past year threatened to overwhelm him, and he wished, for a single childish moment, that he could return to his youth at Eton, when the worst things he had to face were a caning from one of the professors if he and James were caught at whatever prank they had come up with.  


“I don’t think I understand,” James said finally. “I thought things were going well.”  


“As did I,” Sirius said. He set his brush and palette down on the small table James had had brought to his room for just that purpose, and ran a hand through his hair. “I think perhaps I’ve had enough of the Season for this year. Do you think your parents would mind if I returned to Godric’s Hollow?”  


James bit his lip. “I was going to wait to tell you, until perhaps you slept or ate something.”  


“What is it?” Although now that James mentioned it, some sleep probably would be a good idea.  


“Lily – Miss Evans, that is – has agreed to marry me,” James said, a wide grin overtaking his features.  


Sirius was taken aback for only a moment. “James, that’s wonderful!” He enveloped him in a hug. “Why on earth were you waiting to tell me? You’ve been waiting for this day for years!”  


“I know, I know,” James laughed. “I still can’t believe it. Part of me thinks that she’s going to call tomorrow and say it’s off, but…” He trailed off, looking guilty.  


Sirius felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach that felt like jealousy. He decided to push it aside. James had done everything possible for him, even before his family cast him aside. How could he possibly begrudge his best friend any happiness, even if he was never to have this for himself? “I couldn’t be more pleased for you, James,” he said seriously. “When is the big day?”  


“We haven’t decided,” James said. “But I told my parents, and they want to throw us a ball to celebrate. I tried to tell them it wasn’t necessary.”  


“But you are their only child, and they love you to pieces, and wish to spoil you for just a little while longer,” Sirius said, laughing. It was well-known that James was his parents’ pride and joy. They had been married for ten years, and given up hope of having a child when he was born.  


“You know they consider you a son too,” James said. “They want you to be happy.”  


Sirius pasted a smile on his face. “And perhaps I will be. But today, I believe the focus should be on you and your lovely fiancée, who apparently has taken complete leave of her senses and agreed to marry you.”  


James smiled dreamily. “Yes, I suppose so.”  


In the end, Sirius decided he couldn’t possibly leave before the ball to announce their engagement. It was only two extra weeks, after all. Lady Potter had the household buzzing with activity to put together an event in so little time, but she rose to the occasion like a general approaching battle. No flower could be out of place, no dish not seasoned to perfection. She was determined to have the most magnificent event of the Season to celebrate her son, and consequently, made it quite clear that the men of the house would do best to stay out of her way.  


Sirius spent much of his time in his room, painting. James did his best to draw him out, and while Sirius could always be persuaded to take Padfoot on a walk, there was little else that could convince him to leave.  


“I don’t think this is healthy,” James said as he sprawled on Sirius’s bed. It was still made from the day before, as Sirius had again spent the night in front of his easel, painting by candlelight.  


“I’m fine,” Sirius said. He picked up a new brush and considered the work before him.  


“No, you really aren’t,” James retorted. “At least take a nap before this afternoon, please?”  


“What’s this afternoon?”  


James threw a pillow at Sirius’s head. Lambert made a pained noise from where he stood in the corner, restoking the fire in the fireplace.  


“We are going to get fitted for our suits for the ball, you pillock,” James said. “Mother has told us repeatedly.”  


“I thought the wardrobe we got for the Season were supposed to be enough to carry us through whatever activity might be on the agenda,” Sirius said. He remembered it vividly from when Lady Potter had threatened to frog march him to a tailor herself if he did not allow them to pay for a new wardrobe for him.  


“Apparently, this ball changes things.” James threw his hands up. “I, for one, am not going to question Mother on a single thing until after the ball. She is beginning to frighten me.”  


“It’s rather amusing that you think things will improve after that, when all she’ll have to focus on is your wedding.” Sirius laughed at the horrified look on James’s face, and felt a little better.  


The evening of the ball had finally arrived. Sirius had, under strict, and rather terrifying, instructions from Lady Potter, gotten a full night’s sleep the three days leading up to the ball. Her dire warnings about what would happen to his paintings if he showed up looking “like death warmed over” had been enough to convince him to put his work aside for the time being. In any case, he had felt himself nearing the conclusion of his work. He had told James the truth when he said that the paintings weren’t meant to be shown, but he still felt that they were a collection, of sorts, and the time was coming to wrap it up. He was starting to feel like he had expressed all he had meant to say, and perhaps now he would be able to move on.  


Even to Sirius’s untrained eye, the ballroom looked rather magnificent. He could already hear the whispers of those around him, saying that this was sure to be the crowning event of the Season. Lady Potter was graciously accepting the compliments of all the ladies of the Ton, and James seemed so happy Sirius was surprised he hadn’t started crying yet. When Miss Evans entered the room, trailed by her sister and parents, looking spectacular in a navy gown and wearing the set of Potter emeralds that James had gifted her, James was unable to move for a full minute. It wasn’t until Miss Evans was actually standing in front of him that he seemed able to come back to himself, and whisk her away for the waltz that was just beginning.  


After the orchestra finished, and the crowd clapped politely, Lord and Lady Potter stepped onto the stage set up in the corner for the musicians.  


“Friends and neighbors, thank you for being here tonight at our little party!” Lord Potter said cheerfully. The crowd clapped again. “I have some rather exciting news to share. I know it seemed to many of you that this event was a bit last-minute. And while my lovely wife certainly rose to the occasion” - he bowed to Lady Potter, who laughed and waved for him to continue – “the truth is, when one has something happy, it is hard to not wish to share it with the world. So, that being said, I would like for you all to join me in congratulating my son, James, at his engagement with the lovely Miss Lily Evans, who will soon be our daughter.”  


The crowd cheered and clapped as James tugged a blushing Miss Evans to the front. Waiters moved through the crowd, distributing glasses of champagne. “And so, I would like for us to raise our glasses, and toast to the happy young couple, and the joy their future brings!” Lord Potter took a swig of his glass and gestured to the orchestra to begin playing again as he and Lady Potter left the platform.  


The crowd was abuzz with chatter as the music began. Everyone seemed to have opinions on when the wedding should be, if they had been courting for long enough, who had made the better match. Sirius grinned at the predictability of the Ton and walked toward the refreshment table to put his glass down.  


“Sirius!” A happy, feminine voice called. A hand tugged at his elbow, and he turned to see the laughing face of his cousin. “Oh, bother, I mean, Mr. Black. Sorry, but it is hard to remember to address you formally when we’ve known each other since we were in nursery, isn’t it?”  


Sirius laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”  


“It is wonderful news, isn’t it?” Nymphadora said as she reached for a treat from the table. “I thought for sure she would resist poor James forever.”  


“Oh, I knew he could do it, eventually,” Sirius said. “Maybe they just needed the timing to be right.”  


“Maybe you’re right,” Nymphadora nodded. “And you got to see it all happen! Although I have missed you, you know. Family events have just been dreadful without you there.” She looked stricken. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very sensitive, was it? I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”  


“It’s all right,” Sirius assured her. “It was hard at first, I admit, but I think it’s obvious that this is for the best. I never was going to make them happy, and I would have hated trying.”  


A body pushed into him from behind, causing him to stumble. Sirius turned to see who had bumped him and froze when he saw Lupin standing there, a horrified look on his face.  


“Mr. Black, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – that is, it was an accident,” he said helplessly.  


Sirius was sure it was an accident, given the crowded nature of the ballroom and that he was standing directly in front of the refreshments, but he still couldn’t take another moment of this. “It’s quite alright.” He nodded his head and walked away.  


And if he thought he had heard a plaintive call of his name behind him, well, surely that was simply his imagination.  


The next day Sirius staggered down the stairs closer to noon than he was perhaps proud of. He had ended up leaving the ball soon after the announcement and escaping to his room. He had thought that perhaps he might work on a painting, but even the few nights of decent sleep he had had couldn’t erase the mental exhaustion he had gone through the last few months. The bed had looked too inviting to resist and he had fallen asleep as soon as he laid down.  


“Ah, Sirius, you’re up,” James said as he walked into the dining room. “I had Mrs. Cornish set aside some scones for you.” His own plate was empty but for the newspaper, which he had clearly been reading before Sirius came in.  


“Were you waiting for me?” Sirius asked. “I would have expected you to be calling at the Evans residence by this hour.”  


James waved a hand. “Lily is shopping with her mother today for her trousseau. And I had something I wished to discuss with you.”  


“Okay,” Sirius said suspiciously as he sat down. Mrs. Cornish bustled in as if by magic, and placed a cup of coffee and a plate with several warmed scones in front of him. “You are an angel, Mrs. Cornish.” Sirius grabbed the jam and began smearing it over his scones.  


“If you need more, you let me know,” she said. “You are too skinny by half.” With that, she disappeared back into the kitchen.  


James laughed and reached over to snag a scone from Sirius’s plate, yelping when Sirius smacked his hand. “This is for me,” Sirius sniffed.  


“Well, I suppose if your mouth is full this is as good a time as any to tell you my news.”  


Sirius snorted and swallowed before speaking. “James, if you’re going to tell me about your engagement, I think that news has gotten out.”  


“Oh, yes, you’re very funny,” James said sarcastically. “Now, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”  


Sirius paused, warning bells going off in his head. He put down his half-eaten scone. “Why would I be?”  


“I know you’ve always said that you painted as a way to pass the time and amuse yourself, but I think we both know that’s not true.” Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but James cut him off. “Sirius, I’ve known you for ten years now, and you have a talent like no one I know. You do, and I think it’s a shame that no one will see it because you don’t want to put yourself out there.”  


“James? Just tell me what you did.”  


“I invited a friend of my parents, Lord Dumbledore, to the ball last night. His family has always been considered patrons of the arts, and I may have shown him a few things.”  


Sirius was having trouble wrapping his mind around what James was trying to say. “You took a stranger into my room in the middle of your own engagement party to look at some stupid paintings?”  


“Not exactly, and they are not stupid.” James pointed at him. “Dumbledore said, and I agree, that you could be one of the greats. And I simply had Lambert bring a few of your finished works into Father’s study for us to look at. He was very impressed.”  


Sirius shifted uncomfortably. “James, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but he was probably being polite. You were his host’s son, he wasn’t about to say what he really thought.”  


“Actually, he has a reputation for always saying what he thinks, especially about art,” James said. “He’s considered a bit of an eccentric, actually, but he’s also a genius so he can get away with it.” James leaned forward. “Sirius, he wants to arrange an exhibition for you. He has friends who can take care of everything. You deserve to have your work seen. Furthermore, he thinks if you’re interested in putting any of it up for sale, you could make a pretty penny.”  


It was hard to believe what he was hearing. For so long, he had been told that he would lead the life of his father, and his father before him, overseeing an estate and attending parties and generally not being of any use to anyone. That someone would be interested in his skills as an artist was more than he had ever hoped for. “James, I don’t know what to say.”  


“I know it’s not something that you had ever really considered, but I hope you will,” James told him. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t believe in you, but ultimately it’s your decision. I’ll support you no matter what. Just take a few days and think it over, alright?” With that, he grabbed Sirius’s scone and popped it into his mouth before leaving the room.  


Sirius thought of little else for two days. James spent much of his time with Miss Evans, bringing her flowers and offering unwanted opinions on the wedding, while Sirius sat in his room and considered the pieces he had lined up against the wall.  


“What do you think, Padfoot?” he asked the dog who lay sprawled across his feet. “Do you think I have what it takes?” Padfoot barked twice and licked his hand.  


“Well,” he said. “I guess that settles it.”  


James looked so smug when he told him of his decision that Sirius had to fight the urge to hit him. “You see, I do have good ideas,” he said.  


“Not according to your fiancée,” Sirius felt compelled to remind him. Just earlier today, James had returned from Miss Evans’ home, complaining that his suggestion of lilies for the ceremony had been soundly rebuffed.  


James pointedly ignored him and called for the butler to send a letter to Dumbledore’s home, requesting a meeting.  


Lord Dumbledore was certainly as eccentric as James had claimed, but he also had a kindness underneath that that made Sirius feel comfortable showing him even the more vulnerable of his works.  


“Well, I certainly see what your friend meant,” Dumbledore said, peering at them. “He told me that the few paintings I saw barely scratched the surface of your talent, and I must say I agree. Why on earth have you been hiding these away?”  


Sirius struggled to stammer out a reply before Dumbledore waved a hand. “Never mind that. I’m just thrilled I will be able to help you. This collection is quite moving, and I will be the envy of all my friends for having helped you get your start. Now, tell me how you would have it displayed.”  


Sirius felt warmed by how professionally Dumbledore was treating this, as if he were a real artist with thoughts worth listening to. “I imagined it opening on the seascape,” he began before walking him through all of the paintings.  


The exhibit was set to be the following week. “Nothing too formal, not to worry,” Dumbledore assured him. “I have a good friend who enjoys bringing people of artistic temperament together. Some of them are fellow artists, and some merely collectors and those who appreciate the finer things in life. He holds salons once a month and enjoys bringing in new works to liven things up. I think that when his guests see this, they will be just blown away.”  


The man, Mr. Diggle, was indeed delighted with the collection. “I never doubt Dumbledore’s taste,” he confided to Sirius as he walked about his parlor, examining the pieces. “When he tells me that I need to see something or recommend someone, I do it. He’s never steered me wrong.” He laughed, clapping his hands. “I imagine this will be our finest salon yet! All of the best eyes for art have been invited, of course, and if they aren’t beating down your door tomorrow making you offers, then I will eat my hat.”  


Sirius blinked at this rather extraordinary statement. “I appreciate your confidence,” he said finally.  


“Oh, you will see, my boy!” Mr. Diggle said. “You will see! Now, I have some thoughts about the layout, if you would like to walk through the room with me. I want to make sure the lighting is just right.”  


Before long, the paintings were arranged to both their satisfaction, and the staff began bustling around, laying out silver and vases of flowers. “Best let them get to their work,” Mr. Diggle said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder. “Just a few more hours now.”  


Sirius returned home to change his clothes before he had to return. He wanted to be there early so he could take one last look at everything before he bared his soul to London society. Lambert was giving him a fresh shave when James walked in.  


“Do you think one day you’ll knock before you come in here?” Sirius asked.  


“It’s not likely,” James said as he sat down. “Besides, we attended boarding school together for years. Somehow I imagine I’ll survive the shock of seeing you with an unshaved face.”  


That was fair enough, and he really shouldn’t be talking while Lambert held a knife to his face, so he decided to let it go.  


“Are you nervous?”  


Of course, the downside to not being able to talk is that there was nothing to stop James.  


“You shouldn’t be, you know. You’re going to be brilliant.” James smiled proudly. “Mother and Father are so excited for you. It’s hard to say what they spend more time bragging about, this or the engagement.”  


Lambert finished patting Sirius’s face with a towel and stepped away to retrieve Sirius’s coat. “I’m sure they’re more excited about the engagement, James. After all, soon that means grandbabies.” Sirius laughed at the ashen look on James’s face.  


“Yes, well, it’s not about me tonight, is it?” James said hastily, standing up. “We really must be going soon. Miss Evans and her parents are meeting us there, and I’d hate for them to be waiting on us.”  


“I’m sure Mr. Diggle won’t make them stand out in the cold,” Sirius laughed again. He knew James couldn’t wait to marry Miss Evans, but sometimes teasing him was just too easy.  


Lambert applied a last adjustment to his cravat, and they were out the door. The carriage ride back to Mr. Diggle’s home seemed even shorter than it had a few hours ago, and Sirius wondered if it was possible to pass out from nerves. It seemed to happen an awful lot in torrid penny novels, but he had never seen it happen in real life. As the carriage pulled up in front of the elegant home he reminded himself how long James would mock him if he did, and took a deep breath to gather his strength.  


“Come on,” James poked him. Lord and Lady Potter waited patiently outside the carriage, and Sirius realized they were all waiting on him.  


“Right,” he said, pasting on a grin and climbing out. “Can’t get started without me, can they?”  


James nudged his arm companionably. “That’s right,” he murmured. “Just fake it until the nerves pass. You’ll do great.”  


Mr. Diggle greeted them at the door, beaming with excitement. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!” he cried, elbowing aside a long-suffering looking butler to shake Sirius’s hand. “And his lovely family! How charming, just splendid. Come, come, you must try some of the delicious delicacies my staff has whipped up for us. This month we’ve gone on a rather French theme…” He led them in to the parlor where a few people were already milling.  


Miss Evans stood in the corner, chatting with her mother. Sirius felt James tense, and glance his way, obviously conflicted about leaving Sirius alone.  


“Go on,” he said. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”  


“I’ll be back,” James promised. “I just want to say hello.” Sirius waved him off as James hurried across the room. He had never known James to be able to tear himself from Miss Evans’ side in just a few minutes, but he appreciated the sentiment.  


“Well, my dear,” Lady Potter appeared at his side. “Would you like me to show me what you’ve been up to, locked in your room all this time?”  


Sirius grinned and offered his arm to her. “I would be delighted.”  


A few hours later, and Sirius was couldn’t believe how well things were going. All he had heard were compliments and praise for his work. What’s more, the guests were offering informed opinions on his influences and asking questions about his stylistic choices. It felt incredible to be treated as one of them, as having real value as an artist, and not just a bored member of the nobility exploring a hobby. Sirius hadn’t even originally intended to introduce himself as the artist of the pieces, instead planning to quietly observe and see what people thought. But Dumbledore had had his own plans, loudly introducing him to everyone as the “young genius he had discovered”.  


After a while, Sirius started to feel a little overwhelmed by the attention and decided to slip out into the hallway to gather his thoughts for a moment. He rested his head against the wall, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.  


“I hear there’s a genius here, taking the art world by storm.”  


Sirius slowly opened his eyes. How was this happening?  


Lupin smiled sheepishly as he stood before him. “Hello, Sirius.”  


Sirius cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Lupin.”  


Lupin nodded, as if Sirius’s cold response was what he had been expecting. “I must congratulate you. You never told me you possessed such an extraordinary talent.”  


“I suppose it didn’t come up,” Sirius said. “We did not, after all, know each other that long, considering.”  


“Yes,” Lupin said. “You’re probably right.” He seemed lost somehow, as if he wasn’t sure what to do from here.  


Sirius decided to spare him the rest of the pleasantries polite society would dictate they exchange, and stepped away from the wall. “I should return to the party.”  


“Wait!” Lupin said frantically. “Please – I have – that is, I wish to say – please don’t go. I have muddled things so horribly. I’m sorry. I misunderstood things, and you were kind and funny and lovely, and I ruined everything.”  


Sirius didn’t know if he could take this any longer. He had found himself deep in love before he could do anything about it, and it seemed to have done nothing but hurt him. “I’m afraid you did not misunderstand,” he said. “But if my request to move our friendship to a courtship filled you with such horror, at least let me set your mind at ease. I bear you no ill will, and I wish you happiness in all your future endeavors.” He turned and walked back to the parlor.  


“No, Sirius, please!” Lupin hurried after him and grabbed his sleeve before he stepped back into the room. “That’s not what I meant. Please, will you speak with me for just a moment before returning to the party?”  


Sirius made the mistake of looking at Lupin. His eyes were wide and shining with unshed tears, and he seemed to be almost shaking with pent-up emotion. Sirius didn’t know how anyone could deny Lupin anything when he looked like that. “Of course,” he sighed, stepping away. “Let’s go into the study. Mr. Diggle won’t mind.” Plus it gave them the option of privacy, away from any eavesdropping guests.  


Sirius led them to the study where he and Mr. Diggle had sat just earlier that day, going over details of the event. He took his time closing the door behind them, and turned to find Lupin standing a careful distance away, wringing his hands.  


“What was it you wished to tell me?” he asked, striving to keep his voice polite and cordial. He wished Lupin would get this over with, stomp on his heart one last time so he could finally move on.  


“My family is from a small town in Derbyshire, as you know,” Lupin said. “I had never come to Town before, and had little to do with London society. Even at school I spent most of my time on my studies and had little interest in any gossip or Society news that might be going around.  


“So when we met at Almack’s, I can honestly tell you that I had no idea who you were. We had only arrived a few days prior, and it was my first event. My mother tried to convince me to memorize the names of some people I should know, but I never bothered. But you were charming and wonderful and I confess, I was smitten almost from the moment I crashed into you and spilled your terrible lemonade.”  


Sirius wondered idly if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. “Remus, what are you saying?”  


“We were having a lovely conversation, and then Mr. Potter came over, only I didn’t know who he was at the time, and told you that you had to return home, and you walked out together. And almost every time I saw you, you were with him, or just leaving a conversation with him. And it was killing me inside, because I thought you seemed like the most perfect man I had ever met but I couldn’t have you, not the way I wanted.”  


“You thought James and I were together?” Sirius asked incredulously. The idea was so foreign to him he didn’t think it had ever once crossed his mind. “James is as a brother to me.”  


“Yes, well, I know that now,” Remus muttered, crossing his arms. “At first I kept telling myself that I should stay away, that it wasn’t appropriate to be your friend when I had such feelings for you. But then I convinced myself that it was fine, that as long as you seemed ignorant to it we weren’t hurting anybody. But when you asked to call upon me…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.  


Understanding hit Sirius in a flash. “Then you thought that I was asking you to have a liaison behind James’s back.”  


Remus nodded miserably. “I made myself stay away after that. I went to as few balls and gatherings as I could, and spent the entire bloody time only talking with the people my mother thought would be good connections for me. I was miserable. But then at the Potters’ ball, when they announced his engagement, I was so confused. And I heard you talking with your cousin, and well.” He shrugged. “I’m not proud of it, but I asked around a little. Just a little, but enough to understand that there had never been anything with you and Mr. Potter.”  


Sirius sighed. “Lord, we’ve made a mess of things, haven’t we?” He elaborated when he saw the confused look on Remus’s face. “I thought there was no way you could think of me beyond friendship considering my family situation. And when you rejected me, I was sure that was the reason, that you had no interest in someone who had nothing to offer.”  


“That’s not true!” Remus said fiercely, walking towards Sirius and grabbing him by the arms. “I meant it, what I said earlier about you being perfect. I thought you were so beyond me, that there was never even a chance of someone like you wanting someone like me.”  


“I’m not perfect,” Sirius snorted.  


Remus rolled his eyes impatiently. “You’re a bit clumsy, and you speak before you think, and you try your hardest to flaunt as many of Society’s rules as you can, and do you understand, all of that makes you only more perfect to me? I love all of that about you, and more, and the things I don’t know yet.”  


Sirius stared at him. “You love me?”  


Remus’s face went white and he took a step back, letting go of Sirius. “I realize this may not be what you want to hear, especially after how I treated you before. But I felt it only fair that you know.”  


“You are mistaken,” Sirius said quietly, “if you think there is a single thing that I would like to hear more. I love you with so much of myself that even when I tried to stop I could not. I painted every single piece in that parlor for you. I was driven to distraction with it. I thought I might go mad with longing for you.”  


“Really?” Remus whispered. “Truly, after everything?”  


Sirius smiled. “If you can love a man with no fortune and no family connections, then I think I can love a man who made one simple mistake.”  


“It wasn’t that simple,” Remus said. “Caused quite a few problems, actually.”  


“Yes,” Sirius admitted and he walked toward Remus until they were standing against each other once more. “But you still love me. Can’t take it back now.”  


“Oh no,” Remus teased, grinning. “Whatever shall I do?”  


“Well,” Sirius said, and was cut off by the firm press of Remus’s lips against his. Sirius felt lost in the caress of Remus’s lips against his. He nipped lightly at Remus’s mouth and pulled away until their lips were just barely touching, enough to whisper, “Works for me.”  
Remus laughed and snaked an arm around Sirius’s back, tugging him in and kissing him once more.


End file.
